


gatehouse

by epochjeong (pinkwinwin)



Category: VICTON (Band)
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartenders, Business Trip, Drinking, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Melancholy, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24102187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkwinwin/pseuds/epochjeong
Summary: There is something strangely beautiful about airports, Seungwoo thinks
Relationships: Han Seungwoo/Kang Seungsik
Comments: 13
Kudos: 92





	gatehouse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [actuallyshua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallyshua/gifts).



> this is the end result of a challenge that jarki and I came up with. We gave each other a group and a one-word theme and had to come up with a secret fic. Our agreement was to write Victon + our word was "sacrifice". This fic is a bit out of my comfort zone but I hope you enjoy!!
> 
>   
>  [music inspo](https://youtu.be/ERkp1-ib3QY)  
> 

There is something strangely beautiful about airports, Seungwoo thinks— countless lives filter in and out of this space. Reuniting lovers, homecomings, new beginnings, so many memories contained in these walls it’s almost impossible to comprehend. 

Work brings all sorts of people into his life, a temporary reminder that there is a bigger world out there for Seungwoo to explore. He has seen his fair share of weary travelers, looking to him for a drink and a kind face to unload their troubles onto. Seungwoo has always been blessed with the art of excellent small talk, of a beckoning smile that gets people to open their minds and share their thoughts— which in turn, opens their wallets for another drink. It isn’t a conventional job by any means, but it’s one Seungwoo finds comfort in.

Seungwoo dries a shot glass with a rag, smiling slightly as he sees planes take off and arrive, working in a pattern that seems almost like a dance. Jets of steel gray and bright red taxi by the window stretched the length of this part of the terminal, carrying people to lives and experiences Seungwoo can’t even fathom. He wonders if he’ll be one of them some day, carried off into a world unknown.

The quiet clatter of a phone resting on the bar alerts him to a customer, and he pulls his gaze away from the window. He’s still looking at his phone so Seungwoo has a chance to size him up— gray blonde hair, broad shoulders, dark pretty lashes, the kind of resting face that pulls his lips into a pout. His blazer rests on his frame, tie loose around his neck like he’s tugged it away in anxiety or exhaustion. 

Seungwoo decides he is beautiful even before he looks up and makes eye contact.

“Hello,” the man says, a little sheepish as he offers a small smile. He shifts in his seat, and Seungwoo notices the bag in the seat next to him. “A Vodka Cranberry, please.”

  
  
Seungwoo nods at this, long since showing any expression when people order. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t have any opinions, and as he pours the juice he wonders why a polished businessman would order something so juvenile. He places the old fashioned glass in front of the man, a black paper napkin beneath it. He tells the man the price, nodding with a tight smile when he hands him the bills.

“Where to?” Seungwoo asks, closing the cash register door and washing his hands in the sink just behind the counter. The man finishes taking a sip, humming softly as he sets the glass down, pinky cushioning it from the countertop.

“Kyoto,” he says, his voice like pink velvet. Seungwoo arches a brow in an effort to keep the man talking, which he indulges in. “Business meeting, I work in finance.”

  
  
“I’ve been told it’s a beautiful city,” Seungwoo replies with a smile. He dries his hands and puts the bottles he just used off to the side. He’s used to small talk with customers, but something lingers between the two of them after the words leave Seungwoo’s mouth.

“Something like that,” the man muses, like there is something more to say just on the tip of his tongue. Seungwoo has always lived by the notion that bartenders are more like therapists, people letting the burdens of life slide off their shoulders when they sit on the other side of his counter. He cleans the glass in the comfortable silence, giving the man the opportunity to speak if he needs to. 

  
He doesn’t, resigning to sipping his drink while looking out the window at the sky turning pink-orange in the fading sun. They stay in that same silence as the off-white linoleum floor turns shades of pink, orange, red. It’s stunning in it’s own way, but perhaps Seungwoo is biased when he sees the way the hues dance across the man’s exposed neck.

The clinking of ice pulls Seungwoo out of his trance soon enough, the man setting down his glass on the same napkin, soft with condensation. “Thank you,” he mutters quietly.

“The pleasure is mine,” Seungwoo answers, taking the glass with practiced grace and sliding it into the sink. “You’re an easy customer, especially on a day like this.”

  
  
Something about his words makes the man laugh, his eyes like two crescent moons when he smiles. Seungwoo ducks his head and rinses out the glass, muttering to himself about the sun being in his eyes. When he looks back up, a knowing smile has found a home on the stranger’s lips.

“Ah,” he sighs, looking above Seungwoo’s head at the clock. “I should head to my gate.”

Seungwoo nods at this, a chuckle under his breath. “Tuesdays are slow here, they’re pretty lenient about takeoff. You’ll make it there with plenty of time to spare.”

The stranger looks at him, lips parted slightly. It’s almost jarring how out of place he seems, Seungwoo thinks. A man so beautiful shouldn’t be in a place so mundane. “Thank you. I hope I’m not being too forward, but..” he tilts his head, hair falling away from his face just so. Seungwoo grips the glass he’s polishing just a little tighter. “What’s your name?”

“Seungwoo,” he replies, after clearing his throat. The man smiles at this, genuine.

  
  
“Nice to meet you, Seungwoo,” the stranger says, getting out of his seat and picking up the bag to his left. He faces Seungwoo squarely, like he’s been waiting for this moment. “I’m Seungsik.” 

The smile that blooms on Seungwoo’s face is genuine, too.

“I’m telling you, I don’t mind taking your next shift,” Seungwoo mutters into the receiver, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear as he organizes the bottles on the back wall. He turns the Bacardi and Gosling’s so their labels face outward, arranges the  Absolut and Ciroc bottles to stand next to each other.  A voice on the other end asks him if he's sure, if he doesn't mind.

"Please," Seungwoo laughs, leaning down to double-check if the mixers in the fridge are cold enough. "You'd be doing me a favor."

After he hangs up, he wipes down the workspace with cleaner and a rag to be laundered. His back is turned to the main counter, so he doesn't notice right away that someone is waiting for him until a laugh makes him whirl around.

"Do you take every shift here?" Seungsik asks, bright eyes shining behind a pair of earthy-toned frames. His hair is more polished this time, pushed away from his forehead and giving Seungwoo an unobscured look at his handsome face. 

Seungwoo laughs, tucking the rag into the apron tied around his waist. “Basically.” He rests his hands on the edge of the counter, offering a kind smile. “What can I get you?”

  
  
“Vodka Cranberry,” Seungsik replies, taking his blazer off and hanging it on the back of his chair. Seungwoo already has the proper glass out and is stirring the concoction by the time Seungsik turns around.

  
  
“This one’s on the house,” Seungwoo says, smiling when Seungsik looks at him surprised. He shakes his head, wiping down the counter before placing the drink in front of him. “Where to this time?”

  
  
Seungsik hums, the plastic straw resting on his bottom lip. He takes a sip before replying. “Bangkok.” Seungwoo nods, leaning against the back counter and crossing his arms as he looks at Seungsik. “You should come with me.”

  
  
“You’re quite the world traveler,” Seungwoo replies. He leans over the counter a bit, flashes him a smile. “If I ever get a day off, I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  
  
Seungsik laughs, stirs the straw into his drink more. “The company covers all my expenses, so it’s not too bad.” He looks thoughtful as he says this, an emotion Seungwoo can’t quite name swirling in his eyes. He blinks and it dissipates, a serene smile taking over his face. “I’m surprised I caught you again.”

“I’m here every day,” Seungwoo muses, thinking back to the last time he had a day off. He finds it’s harder to recall than he imagined it should be. “I’m giving my co-worker some time off.”

  
  
“Aren’t you a gentleman,” Seungsik says, taking another drink. He folds his hands in front of him after he’s done, nimble fingers brushing against each other.

  
  
Seungwoo shrugs. “He’s getting married soon, wedding planning takes time.” Seungsik tilts his head at the words, and Seungwoo can’t help but feel it’s an endearing habit.   
  


“What about you?”   


  
Seungwoo suppresses a laugh, shrugging his shoulders. It isn’t unusual for people to flirt with him, but something about this feels different. “I’ve got nobody but this place,” he replies, tapping his fingers against the back counter. He takes the bottle of vodka, offering to top Seungsik off, who nods and then ducks his head.

“Sorry,” Seungsik apologizes, “I realize how forward that seems.”    
  


The vodka splashes into the drink, mingling with the deep red juice. It’s almost mesmerizing how it swirls and changes hues. “I assure you, I’m very flattered.”

Seungsik smiles, taking another drink. Seungwoo pretends not to notice the pink dusting on his cheeks.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


August brings sweltering heat, even in the terminal. Seungwoo comes into work everyday and rolls up his sleeves, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt and praying that working with so much ice will bring him some relief. Patrons complain of the same, holding their drinks to their faces or fanning themselves as Seungwoo shakes their martinis. People rarely like to talk when it’s hot out, deciding to conserve as much energy as possible before long, grueling flights packed into tight areas with too many bodies next to you. It’s exhausting, and Seungwoo feels their energy when they walk up to the bar.

Seungsik is a refreshing reset, Seungwoo finds.

He sees him coming down the escalator, checking his watch with a duffle bag in his other hand. By now he has a set schedule, arriving at nearly the same time every two weeks. Seungwoo sees him walk up and he already has his drink ready, expertly mixed and served in the nicest glass he can find.

  
  
This time is different, and Seungwoo smiles broadly when Seungsik walks up to the counter, resting his bag on the nearby seat.

“Good afternoon,” Seungsik says, pushing his hair back with one hand. He’s more relaxed this time, a dark blazer over a t-shirt. It’s appropriate for the summer months, and Seungwoo watches as he tucks a pair of sunglasses into the outside pocket of his bag.    


  
“Hey, you,” Seungwoo laughs, “you look more like you’re ready for a vacation than a business trip.”   


  
Seungsik chuckles, sighing a little when his hands rest against the cool counter. “Dress for the job you want, they say.” His eyes travel to the sink area, where his drink is resting and waiting for him. Seungwoo follows his line of sight and turns back to him, a grin playing on his features.   


  
“I wanted to try something a little different today,” he replies. “A game.”

“A game?” Seungsik asks, eyes sparkling. He leans in mischievously. “What did you have in mind?”

At this, Seungwoo walks over to the drink and picks it up, turning it slightly in the light. “I have your usual ready, but I wanted to see if you want to step outside your comfort zone.” He catches Seungsik’s eye, who looks interested. “I was going to make you some samples, see what you like. If nothing works for you, you can have your drink.”

  
  
Seungsik thinks for a moment, tilting his head. His lips part, petal pink in the fading sun, and Seungwoo tries not to let his mind wander too much. After a moment, he breaks out into a breathtaking smile. 

  
  
“Deal. My flight’s delayed for a couple of hours, anyway.”

  
  
Seungwoo laughs, grabs a couple of old fashioned glasses from the cabinet. He gets to work on three different cocktail samples, using his most showy techniques and pouring methods. Each one gets a gasp or a quiet cheer in response from Seungsik, which only makes Seungwoo more determined to make something he’ll like. After a couple of minutes, Seungwoo expertly lines three glasses up in front of Seungsik.

  
  
“Are you ready?” he asks, breaking out into laughter when Seungsik rests his chin on his folded hands and looks at the glasses in amazement. Something about the childlike joy makes Seungwoo smile a little wider, laugh a little louder.

“Yes!” Seungsik says after a moment, snapping out of his trance. “You have to tell me what these are, first.”

Seungwoo points to the dark red drink with a citrus twist resting on the edge of the glass. “This one is a Blood and Sand, sip it slow since it’s strong. And this one,” he explains, moving his hand over to the second glass and turning it a little. “Is a Cable Car.”

Seungsik nods, eyes following Seungwoo’s every move. He points to the last drink, like a red sunset in a glass. “And this one?”   
  


“Vodka Daisy,” Seungwoo replies, satisfied when Seungsik’s eyes seem to light up at the words. He takes the small glass when Seungwoo gestures to it, taking a small sip of the Blood and Sand. He coughs a little when he sets the glass down again.

“Strong,” Seungsik says, his voice a little hoarse. Seungwoo breaks composure, howling in laughter and throwing his head back. It takes him several seconds to compose himself, and his shoulders are still trembling with laughter as he pours Seungsik a glass of ice water.

“Sorry,” Seungwoo snickers, giving him an apologetic look as he pushes the water to him. Seungsik takes a deep drink from it. “It’s strong, that’s why I only gave you a little. I figured you’d like the blood orange flavor.”   
  


Seungsik sets the water down, waving his hand dismissively. “I do, I do. I just wasn’t expecting it.” He looks at Seungwoo, lips pursed like he’s trying not to laugh. “That’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

  
  
It makes Seungwoo laugh, and he nods. “Absolutely.” 

  
  
The laugh that escapes Seungsik’s mouth is soft, genuine, and it makes Seungwoo’s lips curl up in a smile. His hand reaches out, grips the second glass and takes a drink. He’s smiling by the time he puts it back down again. “That one is so nice.”

  
  
“The citrus mellows out the taste of rum,” Seungwoo explains, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the counter. He points to the last drink, a knowing look in his eyes. “I have a feeling this one will be your favorite, though.”

Seungsik raises a brow at this, picks up the glass delicately. He turns it in his hands as he inspects the drink, smelling its contents before taking a sip. Delight melts onto his face, and Seungwoo grins in satisfaction. 

  
  
“Oh wow,” Seungsik says, eyes wide.

“Told you,” Seungwoo chuckles, eyes crinkling up in amusement. Seungsik laughs, takes another sip.

“I guess I’m pretty predictable.”

  
  
Seungwoo hums, thinks for a moment. “I don’t think so at all,” he replies, voice soft. “I think you’re very interesting.”

Seungsik sighs at this, mood shifting just enough for Seungwoo to pick up on it. He wipes the condensation off of the glass with his thumb, contemplative look on his face. “You’re the first person to say that to me in a very long time.”

It makes Seungwoo frown just a little, and he leans over the counter a little more. “What do you mean?”

It takes a moment, but Seungsik looks up at him. Tight-lipped smile, furrowed brow. “I just found out my best friend is moving out of the area with his husband.”

“That is difficult,” Seungwoo replies, seeing the frustration in Seungsik’s expression. “It’s like being left behind.”

  
  
The laughter that escapes Seungsik’s mouth is hollow this time. “All of my friends are married but me.” And Seungsik looks at him then, wounds exposed and stormy eyes. “I’ve always been alone.”

It feels like Seungwoo’s mouth is full of sand— it’s hard to swallow, to speak. All he can do is look at Seungsik and his sobering expression. There is something delicate between him, and Seungwoo puts the pieces together in his mind.

“You can’t have a family when you’re traveling the world,” Seungwoo mutters back, seeing Seungsik nod at this.

“I didn’t want this life,” he replies, finishing the drink in front of him. He puts the glass on the counter delicately. “My parents pushed me into this.”

  
  
And it hurts, the way that Seungwoo doesn’t know what to say. His situation isn’t unique, but something about the way Seungsik sits there so openly makes him feel wounded. “You must be very lonely.”

  
  
Seungsik smiles then, soft, serene. It’s more stunning than the wad of bills he presses into Seungwoo’s hand, lingers more than his cologne long after he leaves.

“Not anymore.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s a hazy fall morning, the sun not willing to peek out from the clouds yet. Seungwoo stomps into his dress shoes, letting them scrape against the pavement as he fishes for something in his pocket. He shrugs up his shoulders a little when he finds it, turns away from the morning breeze to light the cigarette hanging from his lips. The first drag is soothing, putting the pieces of his mind into a coherent order and readying him for the day ahead.

Few people are here this early, only the occasional car and taxi dropping off early flyers bundled up in their coats and pushing wheeled suitcases. Seungwoo likes to people watch still, making up stories about their lives and why they’re coming to his airport. He takes a couple more drags, tapping the embers onto the concrete when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. A familiar contact photo pops up onto his screen and he smiles, accepting the call and pressing the phone to his ear.

“Don’t tell me you’re in trouble again,” Seungwoo says, laughing when the person on the other end groans.

_ Knock it off, already. _

“Yeah, yeah,” Seungwoo replies, mumbling around the cigarette. White smoke filters out between his lips. “What’s up?”

  
  
A sigh, serious tone. _ Payment’s due next week, you know. _

Seungwoo starts pacing in front of the terminal, looking for a nearby bench. When he finds an empty one, he walks over to it slowly. “Don’t worry about that, okay? I’ll take care of it.” 

_ Thank you,  _ the voice on the other end crackles a bit, the connection cutting out for a moment. _ I wish you could take a vacation or something, I’m really sorry. _

Seungwoo scoffs, taps off the ashes onto the sidewalk. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to.” He sits on the bench, arm draped against the backrest. “Plus, where would I even go?”

  
  
A familiar silhouette catches Seungwoo’s attention, and he turns his head just enough to see Seungsik step out of a cab with his luggage. The collar of his trench coat is popped up like he’s trying to protect himself from the wind. He starts walking to the entrance, but his gait falters when he sees Seungwoo. At this, Seungwoo waves him over and stubs out his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hey, I gotta go but call me later, alright?” he mumbles into the receiver, hearing the person on the other line agree before ending the call. Seungwoo stands up and takes Seungsik’s luggage for him, flashing a bright smile.

“Thank you,” Seungsik says gratefully, as Seungwoo tucks it beneath the bench. “Good morning.” 

  
  
“Morning,” Seungwoo answers, sitting off to the side and gesturing to the spot next to him. Seungsik pulls his jacket around him a little tighter and sits down, looking around a bit as more people start pulling up to the drop-off area. “Always forget how damn cold morning flights can be.”

  
  
Seungwoo chuckles, running a hand through his hair. His phone sits on his lap. “You should be used to it by now.”

“And you are?” Seungsik asks, eyes traveling to Seungwoo’s pushed-up sleeves. He shrugs in response, which makes Seungsik laugh. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

  
  
“It’s my break,” Seungwoo replies, giving him a smile. “Where to today?”

  
  
“New York City, you should come” Seungsik sighs, shaking out his hair and letting it fall away from his face. “It’s a whole conference, so my boss will be there, too.”

Seungwoo nods, looking at Seungsik’s side profile. “You’ll do good.”

  
  
The words seem to take Seungsik by surprise, and he turns to look at Seungwoo. “Thank you,” he says, words quiet and careful. The sight of Seungwoo’s phone makes him tilt his head curiously. “Who is that?”

  
  
Seungwoo looks down, swiping away an app notification and revealing the full photo. He angles the phone so Seungsik can get a better look, a fond smile on his face. “My brother and I, we took this last time I went to go visit him.”

  
  
“He doesn’t live around here?” Seungsik asks carefully. Seungwoo shakes his head, looking down at the picture when he answers.

“Subin goes to university in Gwangju,” Seungwoo explains, resting the phone back in his lap. When he looks back up at Seungsik, he suddenly feels very tired. “Parents aren’t around, so I take whatever shift I can here to pay tuition.” 

  
  
Seungsik looks at him, a mixture of emotions on his face. His lips are parted and Seungwoo swears he can see his breath in the cool air. His words are quiet when he finally finds his voice again.

“I had no idea.”

His expression makes Seungwoo’s heart ache, and in effort to ease Seungsik’s worry he reaches out to pat his knee. His hand hovers over the space for a moment in a silent ask for consent, but what Seungsik does takes him by surprise— he holds his hand.

  
  
Careful, delicate, but warm.

Seungsik, who brings brightness to the bar with every visit. Seungsik, the man who walks around like sunlight is peeking through his veins. Seungsik, the man whose voice shakes when he asks the question Seungwoo thinks he’s been wanting to ask for a long time.

  
  
“Can I kiss you?”

Seungwoo can’t contain the smile on his face, can’t even find the words to speak so he simply nods and threads his fingers through Seungsik’s hair. It’s as soft as he expected, his kiss even more so when their lips finally connect.

Careful, delicate, but warm.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The lounge is empty when Seungwoo enters it, a rare lull in the holiday season madness. He goes to his assigned locker, spinning the same code he could manage in his sleep. The door swings open after a slight yank and a familiar sight stares back at him.

A duffle bag, space enough to carry a few day’s worth of clothes and bare toiletries. It has been packed and packed again since Seungwoo got the job, a joke that someday he’d use the miles his work added to every year. Travel the world, visit cities and countries he’s only seen in pictures.

It feels heavy in his hand when he takes it out of his locker— the promise of something bigger to come. He pushes his locker closed, hums a nonsensical tune as he strides out of the employee area. The terminal is more crowded than usual, and there’s several patrons at the bar by the time Seungwoo makes it there and finds the co-worker taking his usual shift in the middle of pouring an order.

“Looks like you’ve got everything handled,” Seungwoo says as he steps up to the bar. Moonbin nods, placing the bottles down and grabbing the top of the cocktail shaker before securing it into place.

“Sure do, now get out of here for a few days.”

Seungwoo fights the urge to roll his eyes at the way Moonbin shows off in front of customers, twirling the shaker as he mixes a patron’s drink. The woman on the other side of the counter giggles and claps her hands, and Moonbin’s grin is haughty when he pours the light pink martini and slides it over to her. 

  
  
“You’re terrible,” Seungwoo mumbles, chin resting on his hand. Moonbin winks, a strand of his dark hair falling onto his forehead.

  
  
“And you have a week off,” he replies. “What are you going to do?”

  
  
Seungwoo takes a breath, looks at the bag on the chair. He picks it up, thinking about the changes of clothes and toothbrush tucked inside. “I think I’m going to take a trip.” Moonbin arches a brow but Seungwoo doesn’t elaborate, just waving him off when he shoots him a  _ good luck. _

It’s harder to get to the area in front of the escalator, people stopping to read signs or rushing to make it to their gate in time. Eventually Seungwoo finds a clearing and stands there to check his phone, his toes flexing in his oxfords. His mind races, wondering if he’s over or underdressed, what the weather will be like when he lands, the anxiety reaching up his throat until—

  
  
a familiar face in the crowd, coming down the escalator. Bag tucked carefully into his side, looking down at his phone. Seungwoo sees Seungsik first, and all nerves melt away at the sight of him. He steps off the escalator and pulls his suitcase, a surprised look taking over his features when he spots Seungwoo.

“Hey,” he breathes, looking him up and down. Seungwoo is suddenly overthinking his nice jeans and button-down ensemble, but he pushes that thought away when Seungsik smiles up at him. “What are you doing out here?”

Seungwoo smiles, takes his hand. He presses his thumb carefully into Seungsik’s palm. “Where to today?”

  
  
Seungsik tilts his head to the side, hair falling away from his face. Seungwoo decides, once again, that he is beautiful. “Paris, why?”

  
  
And when Seungwoo leans in there are no nerves, when he kisses Seungsik and feels him kiss back there is nothing but fondness. Seungsik’s hand comes up to rest on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. When they finally do part, Seungsik’s eyes reflect the fairy lights strung up for the Christmas season.

“How about I take you up on your offer?” Seungwoo asks, arm wrapping around Seungsik’s waist. “Otherwise I have a week off with nothing to do.”

  
  
And Seungsik looks to the duffle bag at their feet, looks up at Seungwoo with muted shock— which melts away into the brightest smile that Seungwoo has ever seen. 

  
  
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

  
  
And so they walk, hand in hand, Seungsik telling Seungwoo everything there is to know about the city of love. He listens in earnest, steps onto the moving walkway with him, looks at the way the sunset light drips pink and orange down Seungsik’s neck.

There is something strangely beautiful about airports, Seungwoo thinks— and when he leans in to kiss Seungsik again, hand in gentle hand, he thinks he knows why. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated ♡
> 
> [fic twit](https://twitter.com/pinkwinwin) / [main twit](https://twitter.com/truantseeker) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkwinwin)


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